Time

~ 17numa ~ Leave a comment
Heals All Wounds
 
I want to write poems
about moments
that I can’t quite recall
because the flashes
of memories
that still remain
make it seem
like those
were the good old days

I rarely, if ever, asked questions in class.
I knew the answer would surface soon enough.
 
5,000 years later … (everything will make perfect sense)
As for now, get high on the blood of the future.
 
Sacrifices always have to be made;
though it needn’t be your soul that gets sold.

Copies of Happy Hour Hallelujah are now available here through CTU Publishing.
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Destination: Sky

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Hark!
 
When I learned to embrace life, I realized it had (already) always been embracing me.
 
This path and I were made for each other … designed during the gene swarm … manifested by a flash of light.
 
Burn on (soul) soldier, until the snuff.
 
It doesn’t always have to be so big [vast and distant]
Sometimes there
is
only
just
this
moment …
 
to evolve
 
Hark!
 
I listen to music. Or I listen to the fan spin. Or I listen to the high buzz. Or I listen to the silent night.
 
Or I whisper all the ways
in which
I wish
to fly

I appeared at CTU Publishing recently as a featured writer. My poem “Continuous Light” can be read here.

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Many of Some

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The problem I see with some of these folks who are always screaming about peace on earth in their effort to save the world, is that many of these folks still seem to be at war within themselves.
 
So I’m not sure their advice is all that solid. Maybe heal your own heart first, and then bring something super groovy to the table.
 
I just try to enjoy the journey. I’m not claiming any answers. Well, maybe a few…

Two of my poems appeared at Anti-Heroin Chic yesterday. “Even When Broken” and “A Fate Worse Than Death” can be read here. It’s truly a cool site. Highly recommended. 

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Without a Trace

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The sweetness of life’s inner core is directly related to the size of the bite one takes once ravenous desires swarm the mind.
 
How large a slice of the pie does it take to satiate your hunger? How degenerate is your sweet tooth? What happens if you devour the entire cupboard and drown in an ocean of sugar? What happens when the feast overcomes your soul?
 
What happens when you fast on water, oxygen, and truth? How much space occupies the distance between being awake and becoming enlightened?
What’s all this noise about evolution? Didn’t that song get adapted long ago?
It’s one thing
to say
goodbye.
 
It’s quite another
to never again
say hello.

My poem “The Thirteenth Round” appears in the new issue of Caesura Journal. Links to my recent publications can be found here.

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It’s Easy as…

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1.
Avoid unnecessary drama like the plague
 
but if some of it happens to come your way
 
deal with it head on unto completion
 
(and take the trash out while you’re at it
 
just for kicks)
 
2.
I have around zero-point-zero-one % interest in the mundane affairs of Man
 
but all those higher values of evolution
seem to be the play to make the system work
 
3.
And what it all boils down to (rises up as)
 
And what was thought would last forever (didn’t quite)
 
And what will be will be (we’ll see … well, maybe)

My poem “Another in the Urn” was published this week here at Eunoia Review.

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Synchronicity Swirling through the Cycle

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Give me the moon for one moment
and I will die happy
 
Bleeding
red
 
petals
 
pour down from the sky
with waves of light
 
and I am hungry
and I am thirsty
and I am primal
 
but I am not pining
 
because one moment
became perfection
 
and even the sun will get me high

and even the storm will surely pass

I wrote “The Questions” on the Winter Solstice of 2006 while working at Borders. During my break, sitting upstairs in the corner chair, with a head full of…
 
It was the first piece of writing I ever had published, appearing in December of 2009 at The Oracular Tree. The editor, reacting to the spiritual ramblings of my cover letter, decided to change the title of the essay to “Solstice Questions.” It seemed to make synchronistic sense at the time. A week later, on the Winter Solstice, I read it at The Apache Café in Atlanta, Georgia. With a head full of…
 
Ten years later, it has now been published again here at ELSiEiSY. Spin, spin, spin, always spinning…
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Eternally Bloody

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My poem “Fairy Tale Apocalypse” appeared here at Duane’s PoeTree this week. It’s off with their heads. It’s the theme of midnight.

The reason why I am inclined to always shun evil upon this earth is because I love beauty to the core of my being. I wrote my open declaration of war several lifetimes ago. I’m just now catching up to the theory during this karmic spin around the cycle.
 
I would never hurt a fly; unless it tried to kiss me with its shit-stained lies.
 
I would forever sing the truth; until only silence remained.
 
Eternity means what, exactly? I ask thee. I’m here until I’m not.